The Wide, Wide Sea
by TheAbsoluteNordork
Summary: When a freak storm destroys the Principality of Sealand whilst little Peter Kirkland was visiting it, Berwald and Tino go into deep grieving for many years afterwards. However, when they stumble upon a very familiar boy with amnesia and a horrible home life their future begins to look brighter... But what will become of Peter now his nation is gone and he has no clue of his past?
1. Lost at Sea

**prologue - lost at sea**

* * *

A rectangle of light flooded onto the soft blue carpet as the door to the room was opened. Flecks of disturbed dust swam through the light before settling contently on whatever objects they fell on, adding to the thick layer already there that had accumulated over the years.

The light was temporarily blocked out by a figure, black against the brightness of the corridor, before the person stepped inside and shut the door after him. Fingers blindly reached out in search of the light switch and upon finding it the room was dimly lit up by the age old bulb.

Tino Väinämöinen- the human personification of the Republic of Finland- stood under the overhead light, his fingers still lingering on the switch. His dim blue eyes slowly drifted around the room, his expression soft yet sad. He wet his lips slightly before walking over to the bed and running his fingers along the smooth pine frame. The covers were made, decorated with an ocean theme, similar to the rest of the room. Pictures of ships lined the pale blue walls, an array of toy cars and boats sat with a layer of dust on the windowsill in front of thick curtains that skilfully blocked out the light. A night lamp filled with an array of plastic fish sat on the night stand and cartoon sea creatures were plastered all over the tall wardrobe. A blue beanbag sat in one corner, the middle of which had been pressed down from someone sitting in it so many times. A stack of books accompanied the beanbag as well as a dozen or so stuffed toys and figurines. Tino's eyes passed over all of these fondly as he remembered the little boy that used to live in this room, in this house, the one place where he could without hesitation call home.

The Finn swallowed thickly before lowering himself onto the bed, feeling the soft mattress and running his hands comfortingly over the dense fabric of the duvet. It had been years since he'd set foot in this room and just by looking at each object brought back floods of memories- of times where everything was peaceful and happy. Tino's hand brushed against something soft and he looked down in surprise. Half buried in the down pillow was a stuffed toy dolphin, it's fins frayed and colour musty after having been played with and discarded so much. With trembling fingers Tino picked up the dolphin and run his hand over its synthetic fur. He remembered the day they had bought this for him as clearly as though it were yesterday. It had been just before he had arrived in Sweden and Tino and his husband, Berwald- the human personification of the Kingdom of Sweden- had been fussing over which toys to get for him. Berwald had been the one to suggest something to do with the sea, which when Tino thought about it was quite fitting, and when this small dolphin had caught his eye he didn't hesitate in adding it to the shopping trolley.

Of course, he had loved it. The boy took it to bed with him and persistently carried it around the house, telling them that he had decided to name it "Bluey" after it's colour. Tino and Berwald had exchanged amused glances before telling him that he was very creative indeed and ruffling his hair. Then after that they had gone for a long walk with their little white dog- Hanatamago- and Peter had-

Tino's grip tightened on the dolphin. He had said his name. He had said his name without meaning to. It wasn't that the name was forbidden or looked down upon, it was just the feelings that came with it. Peter... Before the Finn knew it tears were burning his eyes and creating long, slick paths down his pale cheeks.

Peter...

The small, cheerful, loveable boy that had resided in this room. The small, cheerful, loveable boy that they had adopted and taken care of. The small, cheerful, loveable boy that they had welcomed into their family, loved and were loved by him in return. The small, cheerful, loveable boy who Tino hoped to think was just lost at sea and would one day return home.

"Peter..." Tino said, out loud this time, his voice quiet and strained. With a half-stifled sob he buried his face into the dolphin's fur, the scent of it's former owner long since gone. He couldn't stop the tears when they fell now- from just saying his name it was like an old, barely healed wound had been opened.

He crushed the dolphin against his chest and fell back onto the bed, the sobs now viciously racking through his fragile body and making him shiver and tremble. He was in the same position when Berwald found him after coming back nearly three hours later, crying for the boy who had long since disappeared after visiting the Principality of Sealand that the very same night was torn apart by a freak storm.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Hetalia, or any of its characters. I do own this story however, which is copyrighted to me.


	2. Relations

**chapter one - relations**

* * *

They were arguing again.

He could hear their voices, booming like thunder through the old house and echoing through the corridors. What was it this time? A scratch on the car? Some mould on the food? He pulled his blanket tighter around himself and buried his face in his pillow, desperately hoping to drown the loud noises out.

He hated it when they argued. The sound of raised voices made him want to cry- mostly because to him it was associated with bad memories. First they would argue, then they would call him and he was expected to come downstairs immediately and then they would take their frustration out on him...

He swallowed thickly and turned over, curling into a ball underneath his dirty bedsheets. Oh, how he hated it here. He'd thought multiple times about running away or calling the police or even a child line... But he was terrified of what would happen to him after that. Would his parents be sent to jail? He didn't want that- mean or not he still loved them because they were his parents and he was supposed to love them.

Then again, what if someone found out? What if someone told the police or social services? What if someone found out about his mental issue? His parents told him it was nothing to worry about, but he knew for a fact it wasn't normal. All his memories before he was twelve he couldn't remember. It felt like a huge and significant part of his life was missing and he couldn't remember any of it. His earliest memory was waking up in the bed he was supposed to be sleeping in now with the concerned faces of his parents lingering above him. They told him that he had fallen and hit his head, though never took him to the doctor for it. Then again, they never seemed to let him go out anywhere- not to school, hardly out shopping, not even to play... they told him they were just worried that someone would kidnap him, but he was lonely. Very lonely. He had no friends and no other family- the only comfort he would get was from the tattered books that his parents had put in his room. They had tried home tutoring before when he asked about school, but he found he already knew a lot of the answers to what they asked him and so they had grown bored and quickly given up. He had begged them to send him somewhere so he could learn things- to exploit the intelligence he knew was there- but they had still declined.

With a miserable sigh he pulled the blankets back and sat up, then gently slid the curtains to the side. The pale moon shone hugely in the sky, illuminating the many eccentric buildings in the Dutch capital of Amsterdam. People were still scurrying about the streets, even at this time of night, hurrying under the various street lamps like ants. His gaze turned to the night sky, where thousands of stars glittered through the dim brightness of the city below. He wet his lips and looked behind him to see if anyone was watching before pressing his palms together, fingers lacing, then bowing his head and closing his eyes. He whispered to the stars; a childish gesture that he had learned from a book. If stars were supposed to grant wishes- surely they could listen to that of a desperate boy?

"Peter!"

The hard and irascible voice of his father made Peter's heart sink. With reluctance he moved back off the bed and stood up, steeling his softening face and fighting back the fearful tears that were working their way up, before moving towards the door and opening it. He looked back one last time at the window, the moon filling up a good part of the pane; accompanied by the dotted white lights of the stars that winked at him from their place high in the sky.

"Please," he quietly asked them, the context known only to him. Then with that, he closed the door with a creak and trudged downstairs, the carpet coarse and hard underneath his toes as he readied himself for the few new bruises that he would surely wake up with tomorrow.

Yet little did he know that the stars had heard his prayer and had taken pity on him, deciding to answer his wish with something Peter could only ever dream of happening.

 **XoXoX**

The following morning, Peter woke up with a start. A bundle of clothes had been thrown on top of him, the weight waking him up and making him sit up, rubbing his eyes furiously.

"Get dressed," his mother told him shortly, standing at the shelves that made his wardrobe. "We're going out."  
Peter could hardly believe his ears. "Going out? I'm allowed to go out?"

"Yes," his mother said shortly, throwing a pair of boots on the floor by his bed and leaving the room. Peter immediately pushed the clothes off of his lap and practically jumped out of bed, pulling off his pyjamas and messily dressing himself. He paused when he saw a nasty purplish-green bruise on his forearm but quickly pulled his sleeve down to hide it. It was best not to dwell on it now.

He slipped on his boots and hurriedly tied the laces before bounding out his room and taking the stairs two at a time. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he saw his mother and father pulling on their thick coats and scarves, talking quickly to each other.

"- become suspicious. Apparently they've seen him at the window and wonder why he never comes out or isn't at school."

Peter blinked. Were they talking about him...? His mother saw him standing there and raised a trimmed eyebrow. "I want you staying by myself or your father at all times," she warned him. "No wandering off, no talking to strangers, no talking. Keep quiet."

"Yes, ma'am!" Peter replied excitedly. It would be his first time leaving the house in weeks, so the last thing he wanted was to ruin it and never be allowed out again. With that, his mother roughly took his hand as his father opened the door and took him outside.

Peter's breath caught in his throat when he felt the cold air hit his face and nose. He inhaled deeply, the coldness refreshing him, taking in the smells and sounds that surrounded the beautiful city of Amsterdam.

"We can go to that shop at Dam Square," his father muttered to his mother. "The woman in there loves gossip, so we'll give her something nice to spread about us."

His mother just nodded and began walking, holding Peter's hand so tightly that it was impossible for him to pull it away, yet Peter didn't care. He was so transfixed by the outside world, the abundant noises, the variety of people, the beautiful structures of the buildings, even the smell that arose from the liveliness of the city. A smile broke out on Peter's face, the previous nights events forgotten as he was intoxicated by the buildings and the people and the flowers he hadn't seen for months.

They crossed Dam Square as casually as his parents dared, before heading for a convenience store on the corner. The door let out a chime as they entered and the cashier looked up, greeting them with a cheerful smile which his father returned. His mother took Peter to the sweet section of the shop and let him choose something whilst his father struck up a friendly conversation with the cashier.

Peter frowned, perplexed by being able to get something and chose a brightly coloured packet of liquorice, handing them to his mother who then pulled him towards the counter. However, as they were paying, the door behind them chimed again and Peter looked back curiously to see who had entered. Two males- one around twenty five and one younger than that- had come in, bringing a rush of cold air with them. The elder was absurdly tall, a shock of brown hair that stood up straight added to his height, with piercing green eyes and a small scar above one of them peering over a thick scarf that he had pulled up to his nose. The younger also had brown hair with part of his fringe falling over one of his eyes in an untidy yet fashionable cut, however his eyes- or eye- was a softer and warm green. Unlike the elder he had smooth, clear skin that was half hidden behind an expensive jacket. Peter observed them with interest as they spoke in Dutch- a language Peter couldn't understand and for which he was grateful that his parents spoke English- and ignored the three at the checkout. This was until the younger one caught Peter staring at him and gave him a smile... before his brow furrowed and he looked harder at the small boy. He said something to the elder one who then fixed his almost frightening stare on the child, who quickly turned around. Were they angry at him for staring at them? He didn't dare look back, instead looking up at his parents who were too absorbed in being friendly with the cashier.

He swallowed thickly when he heard the two behind him start their conversation again- this time, however, in English.

"Isn't that-?"

"No."

"Are you sure though? Because that kid looks awfully like-"

"Maxim. That isn't him. Peter died years ago."

Peter froze. Either this was a huge coincidence or something very strange was going on here. His grip on his mother's hand tightened, especially when they turned around and walked towards the door. He avoided the two men's curious gazes, even when they got outside, and stuck close by his mother's side.

"If you're good and don't make a fuss, you can have your sweets when we get home." His mother said barely even sparing Peter a glance. But- for once- Peter wasn't bothered by that... He was more concerned with the conversation he had overheard in the shop. It had shaken him and made him wonder... There was something oddly familiar about those two men. He knew he had never seen their faces before- they were quite memorable after all- but the familiarity still lingered. They reminded him of a strong smell of tobacco and the warmth from a fire... and a feeling of comfort. This unnerved him greatly.

Nevertheless, as they went to walk away from the convenience store, the door chimed and a voice called out to them in Dutch. His parents turned around with a hard glare on their faces, making Peter turn too.

The younger male bounded down the steps of the store and stood in front of them with a warm smile. He began talking quickly in Dutch to them, gesturing to Peter as he did so. His parents exchanged glances, before his father cleared his throat.

"Do you speak English?"

The boy- Maxim, wasn't it- blinked at them and let out a nervous laugh. "Yes, sorry. Uhm... I know this is going to sound really weird but that boy... Is he yours?"

Peter's mother and father looked startled. "Excuse me...?"

"Is he yours biologically?" Maxim asked again, looking desperate. "Or is he adopted?"

"That's none of your business," Peter's mother snapped. The door chimed again and the elder male stepped out this time, looking as huge and intimidating as ever. He stood by Maxim, lit a cigarette, and then fixed Peter's parents with a cold stare.

"There's no need to be rude."

"He is asking unnecessary questions," his father answered uncomfortably. "But of course he's ours. What sort of-"

"I think you're lying."

A silence fell on the five of them- his parents staring at the two males with a mixture of shock and anger. The elder male hadn't said it like a query- he'd said it like a statement. As for Peter, he was intrigued... there was definitely something about these males that were familiar and he couldn't quite put his finger on it...

"This is harassment," his father managed, doing his best to sound intimidating. "If you don't leave us alone now, I will call the police-"

"Call them." The elder male said, sounding bored.

"Lars..." Maxim whispered. "If this isn't him and we got it wrong-"

"What's your name?" Lars ignored Maxim and instead turned to Peter.

"P-Peter," Peter answered, his voice quivering.

At that, Lar's lips twitched and Maxim let out a gasp. "That's him... Oh my God, Lars, that's him...!"

"What are you talking about?!" Peter's father snapped, his patience wearing thin.

Lars took the cigarette out of his mouth and let out a long puff of smoke. "That boy you've got between you isn't yours."

"Really?" His mother hissed. "How would you know?"

"Because he's my nephew," Lars responded coolly.

Peter's eyes widened. W-what did he just say...?

"Impossible," his father said shakily. "Now if you don't mind, we will be going."

With that his parents turned around and went to walk off again, dragging the small boy along with them. However, they were stopped by Maxim reaching out for Peter.

"Wait-!"  
Without much of a warning, Peter's wound up father turned around and hit Maxim in the face with all his might. Peter's mother let out a yelp and accidentally let go of the boy, causing some passers-by to stop and look. Lars didn't hesitate in grabbing the collar of his father's shirt and pulling him so close to Lars that it was impossible not to look him in the eyes.

"If you _ever_ do that again, I will not hesitate to hurt you. Understand?" Peter's father was visibly trembling, his eyes wide and frightened.

"Let go of me," he spat, struggling in the larger man's grasp.

"Do you understand?" Lars repeated, his voice filled with angry venom.

"Let go of me!"  
" _Do you understand?_ "

Almost in an instant, Peter's father and Lars were throwing punches at each other, hissing and spitting insults. Peter's mother was shrieking and attempted to grab the boy but Peter moved of his own accord. He avoided his mother's grasp and found himself stumbling over to Maxim, who was holding a tissue to his bleeding nose.

"Who _are_ you?" Peter asked Maxim with an uncertain voice. Maxim stared at him with his one green eye.

"You don't remember?"

Peter shook his head. "I... I don't think I've seen you before in my life... But I recognise you."

Maxim's one eye closed in pain. "That's not good," he said, his voice muffled by the tissue. "Really not good..."

"What's not good?" Peter asked, looking confused and afraid.

Before Maxim could answer however, the wail of police sirens reached their ears and suddenly Lars and Peter's father were being pinned to the floor by four policemen, all yelling at the two to not resist and to calm down. They managed to wrestle them into two separate cars and shut the doors before they ascended on Maxim, Peter and Peter's mother.

"Mr Maes! Are you ok?" A policeman asked Maxim, who nodded and instead asked for another tissue.

"We're going to have to ask you to come with us for questioning," the officer said to Peter and Maxim as another handed the latter a tissue.

"Peter, come along!" Peter's mother called as cheerfully as she could, extending her hand to him. Peter's face dropped and he went to stand up, before Maxim placed a hand on his knee.

"Peter... You don't have to go if you don't want to,"

The boy paused and looked back at him. "Huh?"

"If you don't want to go, don't." Maxim told him gently. There was warmth and friendliness in his now two green eyes, offering sanctuary and security. Peter looked back at his mother.

"Peter!" She called through now gritted teeth. "Now!"

Peter looked at her eyes. An icy blue, cold and aggressive, promising punishment if he didn't come to her instantly. Peter was afraid of what might happen if he didn't go to her but at the same time he felt some invisible force pull him towards Maxim's comforting and familiar aura.

"I..." he began, his voice small. "I... I want to stay with Maxim."

"What?" His mother asked, her eyes furious.

"I want to stay with Maxim," he said, louder this time, holding onto Maxim's arm tightly. "G-go away!"

"Peter-!" his mother began, taking a step towards him.

"Leave me alone!" Peter screeched, the months of abuse and neglect finally catching up to him and giving him the voice, the courage and the heart to say the words he had held back all this time. "Leave me alone, leave me alone, _leave me alone!"_

The officers who had been watching this exchange decided to go with Peter's choice and ushered his infuriated mother to another car, while he and Maxim were escorted to the last.

"Will you be alright?" Maxim asked after they got in, accepting yet another tissue as his nose refused to stop gushing blood.

"Y-yeah..." Peter whispered, turning away from Maxim in order to wipe his eyes as the police car began to roll away, moving onto the busy street. "I'll be fine."

 **XoXoX**

"Now, Peter, I want you to answer as truthfully as you can."

Peter found himself sitting in a white washed room, containing only two chairs, a table and a mirror opposite the chair he was sitting in. The overhead light was bright, perhaps too bright and reflected off of the shiny surfaces, creating a formal and serious atmosphere. The boy nodded uncertainly and squirmed around in his seat, wringing his hands together nervously.

The officer in front of him was very kind and made Peter feel somewhat comfortable. He had brought him into a room where he could watch TV with Maxim while they questioned Peter's mother, father and Lars on what happened, feeding him some juice and even some biscuits. Peter had refused to leave Maxim's side during this time and for what reason not even Peter himself knew.

"Now, Mr Maes keeps telling us that you are his missing nephew but your parents are telling us that they've never seen them in their life. So I guess the first question would be; do you know either Mr Maxim Maes or Mr Lars Maes?"

Peter thought for a minute. "I... do but don't."

"What do you mean by that?" The officer replied patiently, turning the recording box in Peter's direction and lacing his fingers under his chin.

Peter wet his lips. "They... seem very familiar. I don't know why, I don't remember ever seeing them before."

The officer frowned. "I... see..."

"I..." Peter began, then paused. Should he tell the officer about his earliest memories? About the abuse and even neglect? He bit his lower lip. Peter still loved his parents... or... or had he brainwashed himself into loving them? The new thought hit him like a tonne of bricks. He had read in so many books about the children loving their parents regardless of their actions and that children should always love and respect their parents... so had he convinced himself that it was his job to love them too...?

With that in mind, he started again. "I... I don't remember any of my childhood." At the officers bemused expression, he continued. "My earliest memory is from about two years ago, when I woke up in my bed with my parents beside me. They told me I'd hit my head whilst walking along the beach and I didn't say anything because... because I didn't think they'd lie to me..."  
"Go on," the officer encouraged gently.

"They... they were really mean to me," Peter said, feeling the tears beginning to burn his eyes again. "They- they didn't let me go to school, didn't let me out and when they got angry they hurt me... See?" He rolled back his sleeve to show the discoloured bruises there. The officers eyes widened and he looked back at Peter.

"Your parents hit you?"

Peter nodded, using his sleeve to wipe his eyes again. "Th-then we came to Dam Square today to get something and we met Maxim and Lars... and... and they stopped us outside the shop and asked if I was related to mum and dad. Then Lars said I was his nephew and mum and dad got really angry and when Maxim reached out dad hit him. Then Lars got in his face and then they began hitting each other."

The officer nodded. "Right. That's perfect. One more question, Peter..."

Peter blinked and looked up at him. "Yes?"

"Does... the name 'Sealand' ring any bells...? This is a very important question, so please try and remember if it does."

The boy blinked. "Sealand...?" He said slowly, to which the officer nodded. The way the 'S' lingered on the tip of his tongue was familiar now that he said it. "Sealand..." he repeated again, slower this time. Yes, there was something very familiar about that name- the way it rolled over his tongue and the way his lips formed the word... "Yeah," he told the officer. "Why...?"

The officer's mouth split into a wide grin. "You'll see soon enough." With that, he stood up and lead Peter out the room and back to Maxim, who had finished his questioning too. The nosebleed had stopped and he was now attempted to rub away the dried blood with a mirror and a damp cloth.

"How did it go?" He asked Peter when they sat back in the room again.

"I told him everything," Peter replied, picking up a biscuit. "And he asked me if 'Sealand' sounded familiar..."  
Maxim paused and looked at him. "And did it?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah."

A smile similar to the officer's crept onto Maxim's face and he turned back to the mirror. "I'm glad."

"Why?" Peter asked with a frown. "I'm so confused..."

"We'll tell you when we get home," Maxim told him, his tone now lighter and a lot more cheerful.

Peter tilted his head to the side in the manner of a confused puppy. "'We'...?"

Maxim glanced at him. "You can't really expect to go home with your parents after that, do you...?"

The young boy's eyes widened. "You mean... I'm coming home with you?!"  
"Yeah," Maxim said with a grin. "From what the officers were saying everything had matched up between mine, yours and Lars' story. They've done some checks and asked around and it turns out you're the kid we believed to be dead. Your so-called parents on the other hand have no idea about anything. I'll be damned if I'll let you go near those two- excuse my language- bastards again."

Peter's jaw dropped. He... he didn't know what to say. This morning he woke up with the faint hope that he would be able to go outside again, and now... now here were two people telling him that they were his long lost family!  
"Thank you!" Peter cried, launching himself at Maxim in a hug and knocking the startled older male off of his chair. "Thank you, thank you!" He exclaimed, wrapping his arms tightly around Maxim's lanky frame and burying his head in his chest, completely overwhelmed by his emotions. Maxim blinked, then smiled and patted his shoulder.

"No need to thank me," Maxim replied. "We all thought you were gone for a long time... And by God, I'm not letting you out of my sight now that we've finally found you."


	3. Familiarity

**chapter two - familiarity**

* * *

Peter was restless.

He couldn't sit still no matter how hard he tried; it was either playing with his jacket buttons, bouncing in his seat or swinging his legs in the large space between his seat and the drivers.

"Excited?" Maxim asked in the seat next to him, one of his slim legs crossed over the other and of his arm draped over the headrest.

"Yeah," Peter admitted with a grin, peering out of the car window again. Buildings flashed past that he'd never seen before- the shops, people and houses all unfamiliar and new. He'd never been to this part of Amsterdam before and it the unknown possibilities excited him. "How much further is it?"

Maxim glanced out of the window. "I'd say around five minutes."

"Three minutes," Lars corrected almost robotically, glancing at him in one of the mirrors- one of his eyes already bruised and nearly swollen shut.

Maxim pulled a face. "No need to be pedantic."

Lars glanced back down from the mirror with a light smirk, removing the cigarette from his lips and holding it out the open window. Peter watched the smoke pass with mild fascination; the wisps making ringlets and spirals in the air before slowly disappearing into the wind.

"I still think it's a jolly good thing that we decided to take the car today," Maxim said absently, patting the car seat affectionately. "We'd have a long walk back otherwise."

The elder Dutchman hummed in agreement before pressing lightly on the breaks and abruptly pulled onto a short path, the rows of houses leaving Peter's line of sight and instead making him look ahead to the house that sat at least a hundred meters back from the houses and shops. Perhaps 'house' was not quite the right label; it was more of a mansion than a house. It was a two story building- complete with a balcony and porch. The walls were a light brown with a dark oaken lining, the roof made of thick tile slates. The windows had four individual panes in each and had their cream coloured curtains thrown wide open. Double wooden doors sat at the front of the house, complete with two brass knockers that sat in the middle of the wood.

"You live _here_?" Peter asked incredulously. It was such a drastic change from his dirty city house that he felt a little unnerved.

"Indeed we do," Maxim responded with a smile, undoing his seatbelt once Lars stopped the car. "Or at least Lars does. Myself and Bella are just visiting for the weekend."

"Bella?" Peter asked. "Who's that?"

"My little sister," Lars responded as he opened the door for Peter who eagerly got out.

"And my big sister," Maxim added, exiting the car on the other side and walking round to join Peter. Before he could say anything more however a loud bark caught the trio's attention.

A large snow white dog with a questionable breed had come bounding around the back of the house and had made a beeline for the three, letting out excited barks and yaps as it did. Peter let out a small squeak and hid behind Lars as the dog barrelled with heavy paws into Maxim, effectively knocking him over.

"Pelze!" Maxim wheezed as one of the dogs great paws lodged in his diaphragm. _"Af!"_

The dog let out a whine and stepped back, sitting down heavily on the ground- it's tail wagging furiously and it's tongue lolling. Maxim let out a cough and stood, rubbing his chest and grimacing. He shook his head at the dog before running a hand gently over the tufts of fur on top of its head, making the dog let out another whine and collapse, rolling onto its back.

"This is Pelutze," Maxim told Peter as he bent down to rub the dogs exposed stomach fondly. "Don't worry- he's very friendly. Just lacking in brains sometimes."  
Peter nodded slowly and crouched down, slowly extending a cautious hand. Pelutze- who had sat up by now- sniffed it curiously before giving it a slobbery lick.

"Ugh!" Peter wrinkled his nose and quickly withdrew his hand, making Maxim laugh.

"Don't worry, that means he likes you," Maxim told him, standing up. "Now come on, we'd better-"

" _Maxim en Lars Maes_!"

The firm voice made Peter jump and whip around towards the house where an angry looking woman was stomping out of. Her hair was a light almost gingery brown, pulled back by a band that circled her rounded face like a strange interpretation of a halo, complete with bright green eyes that reminded Peter of a particularly mischievous cat. He looked up at Maxim and Lars and to his surprise saw the two looking what resembled fearfulness.

The woman stopped directly in front of them and began talking quickly in Dutch, gesturing to the two and then herself. She paused with a gasp when she noticed the cuts and bruises and stood on her tiptoes to examine her brothers faces, the earlier anger replaced with something softer which Peter could only place as worry. Then she stepped back and planted her hands on her hips before asking one short and sharp question.

Lars mumbled something in response, taking one last drag of his cigarette. The woman, who Peter could now safely identify as Bella, frowned.

"That's impossible..." She responded in English this time.

Maxim reached behind him and gently brought Peter forward, gesturing to him as he did. "See? He's not dead... we found him! We found him, Bella!"

Bella stared at Peter with wide eyes. Her lips formed an 'o' shape, her expression melding confusion and joy. "... Peter...? Is that really you?"

Peter shifted and gave her a slightly awkward smile. Again, there was a familiarity surrounding the woman but he couldn't quite remember her...

Suddenly, Bella let out a loud shriek and before Peter knew it she was on her knees hugging him tightly. "Oh, Peter! Peter- you're alive!"

Peter wasn't entirely sure what to do so slowly hugged her back, resting his chin on her shoulder. She was visibly crying now, tears wetting his shirt and joyous sobs vibrating against his chest. "I'm so glad you're alive... So, so glad..."

Lars took the cigarette from his mouth and put it in a small sealed envelope before speaking. "There's... a slight problem though."

Bella immediately turned to look at him, her grip never faltering. "What? What kind of problem...?"

"He doesn't remember anything," Lars told her, scratching the scar above his eye. "And I mean _anything_."

Bella let go of Peter then and placed her hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eyes. "You mean he's forgotten-?"

"Yeah," Lars answered, then coughed into his closed fist. "We'll tell you more once we get inside."

Bella nodded gravely and stood, offering Peter her hand. Peter stared at it, sorting through a range of emotions. He was still wary of these people, however the familiarity was a great comfort to him. Aware of this, he took her hand and followed the female into the house. All he could think of was how gentle she was with taking his hand and leading him where the only other female hand he remembered had been rough and demanding, Maxim and Lars exchanged glances before Maxim followed with a whistle- to which Pelutze responded almost immediately and trotted behind him.

Lars remained with the car for a few more minutes before he spared a glance up at the sky; early evening had already begun to set in and had turned the sky into a whole canvas of soft oranges and muted pinks that brushed the fluffy clouds circling the great expanse. With a long sigh he pulled up his scarf and locked the car before trudging after the others and into the warmth of the house.

 **XoXoX**

"Those _bastards_ ," Bella hissed, her nails digging into the table almost painfully. "How... how _dare_ they do that to a child? How dare they?!"

"Bella, calm down..." Maxim hushed, reaching over to gently move her hands away from the wood.

The female complied but shook her head in disbelief. "I just... How could they do that? To a child that's not even _theirs_?! I have the right mind to go there right now and-"

"Bella..." Lars warned, glancing through the French doors to the porch. Peter was sitting on the decking, his back against the wood, stroking Pelutze's soft fur. He'd needed some time alone after he had been fed and had a bath and the porch was his first choice. The cool night air was refreshing and helped him clear his head. He tried not to listen to the Maes' conversation but from Bella's current reaction he knew exactly what they were talking about...

Bella opened her mouth to say something else but instead let out a sigh and then buried her face in her hands. "I... I'm just glad you two found him."

"So am I," Maxim replied. "That reminds me... We need to call up his parents."  
Peter froze at the word and turned his head towards the door, hoping to hear what they were saying better. His parents... his _real_ parents... Who were they? What were their names? Where they nice? Many questions swum around his brain but he kept his mouth closed and instead listened.

"Yes," Lars responded, rubbing his chin. "I'll do that in a minute... Peter should stay the night with us though. It will be too overwhelming otherwise."  
"I agree," Maxim said. "What we could do is arrange to meet them halfway as the journeys too long otherwise. Either that or we leave him with Mathias and his parents can meet him there."

"That sounds like the best plan," Bella responded. "Norway should be there too-"

"Bella!" Both Lars and Maxim hissed but it was too late- Peter had heard them. Norway...? Was that some sort of nickname?

"Sorry," Bella said, covering her mouth. " _Lukas_ should be there too, shouldn't he?"

"Yeah," Lars answered stiffly before standing up. "I'll go and call them. I'll also call some of the others so they can spread the news."

Others...? Peter thought curiously. How many people were there to inform? He heard Lars turn away and his footsteps lead down the corridor before the other two chairs scraped along the tiled flooring and Maxim peered out of the French doors.

"Hey, kiddo," Maxim said with a grin, closing the doors and sitting down next to Peter. "Aren't you cold?"

Peter merely shook his head, turning his big blue eyes to look at the older boy. "Maxim?"

"Yes?"

"What are my parents like?"

A grimace passed briefly over Maxim's face but it was quickly replaced with a smile. "Your parents? Two of the nicest people I've ever met. Your... "mama" I guess, is quite clumsy but is very kind and sweet. Always makes sure you have had enough to eat and gives wonderful hugs. Your papa is... an interesting man. He looks intimidating and he's very tall like Lars but I've heard that he's a real sweetheart underneath it."  
Peter nodded, a smile appearing on his face. He loved the sound of them already. "What are their names?"

Maxim had to think for a moment. "Um... let's see if I can pronounce these right... Berwald Oxenstierna and Tino... Väinämöinen I think it is."

The younger boy blinked. "Shouldn't you know how to pronounce it if you're related...?"

He was surprised when Maxim let out a laugh. "Oh, Peter... Well... The truth is, we're not actually related to you. We're just considered your uncles and aunt as... Well, it's best if your parents explain it."  
Peter's heart sank. "Oh..."

Maxim watched his face fall then let out a sigh and pulled Peter into a hug. "Hey, don't be sad! We'll see each other often, ok?"

Peter nodded, savouring the warmth from the hug. Maxim really was the only person he felt safe around since being taken away from his parents. He felt some sort of connection to him, sanctuary in his welcoming and passive aura.

"Come on, it's getting chilly," Maxim said kindly, standing and then helping Peter to his feet. "Do you want some hot chocolate? Bella brought some over from Belgium so it's the good stuff."

"Sure!" Peter responded, feeling better already. He whistled to Pelutze who stood immediately, having taken a liking to the small boy, and then followed Maxim into the house once again.

It was only as he lay in one of the many spare rooms beds surrounded by stuffed toys and soft pillows late at night did the days events catch up to him. Tears burned in his eyes and he felt his throat close up as he reached for a stuffed rabbit and held it close to his chest. He silently wondered why he was so emotional- it couldn't be that he missed his home, could it? What was there to miss? He never felt safe and he never felt cared for and his parents weren't even his real parents... So why was he crying?

In the end the crying got worse and he ended up getting up, wiping his nose automatically on the sleeve of his too big pyjamas and padding down the hall to Maxim's room. He remembered it from when Bella gave him a tour of the house. He opened the door and stepped into the room, hovering fleetingly by the doorway. Would Maxim be angry if he woke him up? He watched the steady rise and fall of the blankets on the faint outline of the bed before closing the door. Pushing the niggling fear away he quietly walked over to the bed and poked Maxim's shoulder.

"M- Maxim..." he sniffled. There was a groan and then the figure rolled over, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Hunh?" He managed, before blinking. "Peter...?"

Peter opened his mouth to reply but a sob seized his throat instead and the steady stream of tears returned.

"Whoa, whoa, hey," Maxim hushed, sitting up and pulling Peter into his lap. "Hey, shh... It's ok..."

Finally glad to have the comforting aura again, Peter began crying freely, barely contained sobs raking his fragile body. Maxim stayed up with him, hushing and cooing the small boy and reassuring him that he was there, until Peter finally fell asleep in his arms as the first rays of light peeked through a gap in the curtains.

 **XoXoX**

Peter watched from the doorway as Lars awkwardly hugged Bella and then ruffled Maxim's mop of hair affectionately. In return the two gave him a friendly hug and a hushed "see you soon" before Lars turned back to the small boy with a raised eyebrow.

"Ready?"

Peter nodded half heartedly, shuffling his feet. "Can... Can I say goodbye?"

Lars hummed in response and walked past him to the car, patting Peter's head gently as he did. He could understand Peter's reluctance to leave this temporary accommodation and let him have his space, instead walking down the porch steps to his awaiting car.

Peter turned to Maxim and Bella, who smiled warmly at him. Bella was the one to hug him first, running her fingers through his hair and even letting out a small chuckle.

"It was nice to see you again, Peter," she told him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, a feline-like smile spreading across her face. "I'm just so, so glad we found you... Remember, you can come back and visit anytime, alright?"

Peter smiled and hugged her back with just as much enthusiasm. Over the past day he had really warmed up to the mismatched trio and planned on visiting them soon. "Definitely," he giggled. Bella gave him one last tight squeeze before standing up and making way for Maxim.

Maxim crouched down and looked up at Peter, his eyes serious. "I'm sure you'll be perfectly fine. Your family are quite... lively, but incredibly kind. If you want to give us a call or need a break just ask for my phone number, alright?"

Peter nodded, before practically launching himself into Maxim's arms. Maxim hugged him back tightly and let out a sigh. "I'm going to miss you, kiddo."

"I've only known you for a day!" Peter responded with a laugh.

Maxim smiled sadly. "... Yes. A day that you can remember at least." He let go of Peter and stood up again, ruffling his hair with gentle fondness. "We'll see you around, kiddo. I'm so sorry we can't come with you, we just have so much work- oh!" Suddenly, Maxim's eye widened and he told Peter to stay where he was before dashing upstairs.

He returned a few minutes later with the stuffed bunny he had given to Peter from the collection on his bed last night. "Here!" He said triumphantly, handing it to the boy. "I thought you'd might like to keep him."

Peter grinned and held the bunny against his chest. "Thanks! I'll take care of him, don't worry!"

Maxim smiled then pointed to the car outside. "Alright, you'd better go! Lars is waiting."

The boy nodded and gave Bella and Maxim one last hug before running out the door and climbing into the car with Lars. "Where are we going, again?" Peter asked as he fastened his seatbelt and waved to Maxim and Bella from the car window.

"The German border," Lars responded bluntly, pulling down the driveway and giving a small wave to his younger siblings. "Your uncle Mathias is waiting for you at the border from Germany to Denmark."

"Uncle Mathias..." Peter repeated slowly, testing the way the name rolled on his lips. "Is he nice?"

A smirk formed on Lars' lips. "He's as crazy as a box of frogs, but he's a good guy. Also happens to be what I would consider my best friend." So that's why Lars is considered an uncle, Peter thought. "His accents pretty thick, but no where as thick as your dads."  
"How thick is my dad's accent?" Peter asked curiously, placing the stuffed bunny in between his legs.

Lars cleared his throat. "Put it this way, your... mum has to translate for the rest of us." Peter grinned at that. He was excited to meet his new parents- well, as far as they _were_ new.

They drove in relative silence for the long hours that followed. Peter watched in wonder as new buildings and new scenery passed by the window, making a great impression on his young and impressionable mind. His mind was full of questions on the family he couldn't remember, his past life, his relationships... But Lars had told him when he began asking that he was in no position to answer them; that was his parents and uncles job. At first Peter had been annoyed by it but now vaguely understood why. Lars for one didn't seem like the type of person who would strive to keep up a conversation- he seemed awkward, in fact- and it wouldn't be totally fair to expect him to answer the questions. In addition to that, it was only fair if Peter's immediate family explained everything to him. He guessed it would make it easier to bear.

They paused for a break once they passed the border into Germany and stopped at a small cafe- Lars buying Peter some juice and a pastry. They got a few odd looks- Lars especially- but Peter pretended not to notice. What business was it of theirs anyway?

However, as Lars and Peter headed back to the car after finishing their pastries, the loud screech of a car horn stopped them. An expensive yet sturdy looking car had swerved almost dangerously into the parking lot and was now pulling into the empty space by Lars's car. Lars's eyes narrowed and he stood up to his full height, preparing for some sort of trouble when a man jumped out of the drivers side door and all but tackled Peter into a tight hug.

" _Peter!_ Holy fucking shit! It really _is_ you!"

The small boy was frozen in the man's grip- the suddenness giving him the incapability to speak. He was terrified; who was this man? Why wasn't Lars doing anything?! Nevertheless, the Dutchman simply rolled his eyes, obviously at ease.

"Let go of him. You're scaring the poor kid."

Almost immediately the man pulled back enough so that Peter could see his face. Peter's eyes widened significantly when his eyes met two crimson ones, embedded quite deep in the man's head and surrounded by paper white skin. A mop of white hair matched his skin tone, bangs brushing over his right eye. His eyes seemed to sparkle like rubies, filled with excitement and curious wonder.

"Um..." Peter managed, glancing at Lars.

"Shit, I forgot," the man said, standing up. "You don't remember me do you?"

Peter shook his head a little awkwardly, eyes still transfixed on the glittering rubies. Was this man some sort of monster? A vampire, perhaps?

The man shook his head and laughed- a strange sort of hissing sound that sounded partially forced and partially genuine- before he patted Peter's hair. "I'm your uncle Gil! Well, not really uncle but we won't go into that. Nice to see you again, kid!"

"... uncle Gilbert," Peter repeated, only meaning to test out the words, then paused. How did he know his name was Gilbert? He'd only said 'Gil', hadn't he? Again, a strange familiarity surrounded this new male, the same feeling that he had gotten when Lars and Maxim found him.

"That's it!" Gilbert grinned widely. "I can't believe you found him, Ned!"

Peter frowned. Ned...?

He seemed to be referring to Lars though, as he cleared his throat. "It was Maxim who found him. Anyway, Matt must have informed you."

"Yep," Gilbert responded, stuffing his hands in his black hoodies pockets. "The news is spreading like a fire- I'm not even joking. At least half the damn world knows. I had to come see for myself though to make sure it was a hundred percent true."

"Of course it is," Lars responded. "But how did you know where to look?"

It was Gilbert's turn to roll his eyes now. "You take the exact same route every single fucking time, Ned. Plus I'd recognise that piece of shit anywhere," he said, gesturing to Lars' car.

The Dutchman frowned. "I'll remember that. Where's Ludwig?"

Gilbert snorted. "Working. Or at least trying to work as Feli's at our place. He said I could borrow his wheels as long as I didn't damage it."

"I'll trust you haven't done that," Lars answered, the hint of a playful tone in his voice. Peter listened to the conversation with fascination. Who were Ludwig and Feli?

Gilbert frowned. "What happened to your face?"

Lars's hand came up to rub his cheek. "I got into a fight with one of the parents."  
The other male's jaw dropped, before he grinned. "Good! Can't believe someone would be so fucking pathetic to-"

"We'd better get going," the Dutchman interrupted, resting a hand on Peter's hair. He didn't want to make Peter uncomfortable, nor bring up bad memories. "Matt's waiting for us."

Gilbert nodded and crouched down, giving Peter a firm pat on the shoulder. "I'll see you soon, kid! You have no idea how happy I am you're alive. No idea."

Peter could only nod and give Gilbert a weak smile. The older male seemed to be quite overwhelming, but his intentions were at least good.

With that, they parted ways with Gilbert and with one last wave turned back onto the roads. "Is Gilbert sick?" Peter asked Lars, a tone of worry in his voice.

Lars looked mildly confused for a few seconds before he chuckled. "No. Gilbert's an albino. If you don't know what that is look it up on the internet later or something."

"Oh" was all Peter responded, looking out of the window once again. Gilbert's appearance could be quite frightening to someone who had never met him before, along with his accent. It was throaty and almost raspy, sounding more like he was shouting rather than talking, however Peter knew deep in his heart that Gilbert was nice. He would just take some time getting used to.

A smile tugged at his lips as he leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes. He would need some time getting used to everything, not just the people. This new life, new family, a whole new scenario...

Nevertheless, Peter was content in a way he never though he would ever be.


End file.
